Beyond Measure - Easter Egg
by inkstainedfingers97
Summary: Jane's POV for Chapter 17 of Beyond Measure. I'm pretty sure this won't make a lick of sense if you haven't read that first.


Disclaimer: This is for fun and no money.

A/N: I noticed I have a tendency to switch back and forth between perspectives in a lot of my fic, so I decided to try to write Beyond Measure entirely from one point of view as a challenge to myself. I decided to write it from Lisbon's point of view, since I think The Tiger and the Lamb had a bit more of Jane's perspective overall. But there are a couple of scenes in this story where Jane's side of the story just really wanted to be written, so I decided to write them as "easter eggs" to the main story and post them separately. Because that story clearly isn't long enough already. Ha. This is the first one. It might be kind of cheesy, but meh. It's a missing scene from Chapter 17 of Beyond Measure. I'm pretty sure this won't make a lick of sense if you haven't read that first.

xxx

Jane watched Lisbon sleep, so full of love for her he thought it might literally spill out of him like a cup brimming over. The woman had baked a cupcake for him. A practically inedible cupcake. To honor the memory of his daughter, a child she'd never met.

Lisbon was right. Charlotte's life was something to celebrate. It was comforting to think his daughter was remembered by someone other than him, even if it was Lisbon, who had never known her in life. He'd never realized it before, but it was important to him that someone else recognize her, that someone else understand how important she was. Lisbon had given him that.

She'd given him so much. A place on her team. Her quiet, constant support. Her precious, unwavering love. She'd loved him a long time, he'd come to realize. She'd hidden it in plain sight, behind a mask of brisk efficiency and fierce loyalty. Lisbon's way of loving someone was less obviously apparent than his, with his penchant for extravagant gifts and dramatic gestures. Hers was no less strong, but different in expression, due to their fundamentally dissimilar natures. She was his opposite in so many ways—while he constantly clamored for attention, everything she did was executed with as little fanfare as possible. He blew through people's lives like a tornado, causing unrest and upset everywhere he went. She moved through the wreckage of other people's lives more gently, quietly and efficiently setting everything to rights. She did this for the people whose lives she touched in the course of her work, and she'd done it for him. She'd been there for him ever since he'd met her, with her steadfast calm, teasing banter, and above all her incredible compassion.

He'd never been there for her in quite the same way, he realized with a pang. He'd always been distracted, before. At first, by his grief, and later, by his fear. She'd protected him, sacrificed for him. And what had he given her in return? All those years, he'd blown hot and cold with her, flirting and teasing one minute and then panicking when he realized he was getting too close and retreating back to his attic. He'd always held part of himself back from her.

No wonder she was a bit skittish about trusting her heart to him completely now. She'd trained herself not to rely on him, convinced by his talk of revenge and his admittedly eccentric ways that he might disappear at a moment's notice. It was natural that she'd be nervous about letting him entangle himself more thoroughly into her life. Still, at the first sign that he needed her, she hadn't hesitated to drop everything and come to his side.

Not for the first time, he reflected that he in no way deserved her. She deserved a whole man, someone unencumbered by guilt and self-doubt, someone brave enough to give himself to her completely. Could he be that for her?

He'd been consumed with guilt and that dark obsession with revenge for so long. But it had been better lately, now that he was with Lisbon. Now, wallowing in misery and self-loathing seemed less important than focusing on where to find the perfect rose for her, or what kind of dessert would make her eyes light up when he surprised her with it after dinner. He thought of the Carters' priest, quoting Martin Luther King, Jr. to him. _Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that._ Ultimately, it wasn't vengeance that had freed him from that darkness. It was Lisbon. She was his light and his love.

He whiled away the hours, casting his gaze over the soft sweep of her dark hair, drinking in the sight of her freckles against her ivory skin, pale in the moonlight. The full mouth, softly parted. He took her hand, lying on the couch cushions between them. He enveloped it in his and cradled it to him, two fingers curled around her wrist to rest against her pulse point. He thought about what it would take to make her happy, in both the short and long term.

He would stop pressuring her for more than she was ready to give, he decided. If she needed time, he would give it to her. It was the least he could do. After all, Lisbon had already proven she was utterly trustworthy. She'd demonstrated in a thousand ways that an organ as sensitive someone else's heart was safe in her care. He figured he had a long way to go in terms of proving himself worthy of the task of looking after hers. He knew she was still wary, that she still feared he was going to leave. This concern was mystifying to him, since he'd practically tattooed his intentions on his forehead. How she could think he had any intention of leaving when he had done everything he could to worm his way into moving in with her was baffling, but that was Lisbon. If she'd been less complicated and confusing, he probably never would have fallen in love with her in the first place.

So in the short term, he'd ease up on the pressure to make the traditional sort of displays about their commitment to one another. He had no intention of relinquishing his true object (her, forever), but sometimes one had to make a few sacrifices along the way to achieve one's ultimate goal. In this case, the necessary sacrifice was giving her space when that was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd already gotten the apartment, which had helped. But he would have to wait a little longer than he'd originally planned to revisit the idea of moving in with her. He might even have to wait until she brought it up herself, and God knew how long that could take. Still, he could be patient, if the ultimate prize was sleeping with Lisbon in his arms every night.

He wondered how long it would be before it would be safe to propose. He'd have done it already if he hadn't thought it would send her running to the hills. Now he was starting to think his original timeline of Christmas was overly optimistic. He'd have to tread carefully there. If he didn't make any of his intentions known, she might interpret that as a lack of interest on his part, which could in turn result in her feeling hurt and rejected, even if she thought she didn't want that yet. He needed to plant the seeds, make sure she had an idea of how much he wanted her without pressuring her into any time frames she wasn't comfortable with. Best to leave thoughts of marriage unspoken, for the time being.

It occurred to him that it might be easier for him to abide by this self-imposed rule if he simply acted as though he were already married to her. He could start immediately. That would ease his impatience, and then all he would have to do was wait for her to catch up. The ceremony would be little more than a formality, after all. He had every intention of being with her the rest of his life. He wanted that formality, true, so he could proclaim to the world that she was unequivocally his and he was unequivocally hers, but that was hardly the most important thing about marriage. The important thing was that he made her smile at the end of a long day, that he made her feel as treasured as she was as often as possible.

He wouldn't be able to do that if he was still mired in the past. He thought about what she'd said, that she wanted him to be able to remember the good things about his family. Moving on didn't mean forgetting. In his case, it meant turning his focus away from his past failures and no longer allowing them to dictate his every move. If he truly wanted to heal, to be whole for her, he would have to set down the burden of guilt he'd been carrying for so long. In ten years, he'd never managed to do it for himself, but now he thought he finally might be able to do it. For her.

It wouldn't be easy. He'd carried that burden like a sack of stones for over a decade. He wouldn't be able to set the whole thing down at once, he knew. He'd have to release one stone at a time, and make sure each fallen stone didn't damage anyone else in the process. Especially her. He didn't want her suffering any more over his past mistakes. She was far too precious to him. He gazed at her sleeping form, another wave of love crashing over him. In that moment, if she'd woken and asked for the moon, he'd have ascended the stars to get it for her.

_I give myself to thee_, he pledged silently. And in that moment, an unfamiliar feeling stole through his chest and took up residence in his heart. The weight lessened. He breathed deeply, feeling lighter and freer than he had in longer than he could remember. He looked at her in wonder, and held her hand tighter to his chest. It took him a minute, but finally he found the name for that extraordinary feeling in his chest.

Peace.


End file.
